The Dragon's Bane
by BlueDirewolf
Summary: Everything has a weakness, even a dragon. "Things" are not only being awakened, but also born north of the wall. "Things" that could change the fate of the world if they fell into the right hands. What happens when they fall into the hands of Jon Snow? Rated M for lemons in later chapters-It is Game of Thrones after all.
1. Chapter 1

Note from the author: I do not own these characters. They belong to George R.R. Martin. No copyright infringement is intended. That aside, this is my first published piece. Please enjoy, and please R&R. Happy readings!

Jon's time with the King Beyond the Wall had taught him, more than anything, to be free. He had learned that a man must adapt himself to nature instead of claiming or conquering it. Through that, he learned how to be a better warrior, a better man.

He had convinced the King that it would be a path of conquering if he were to attack the Wall and beyond. Instead, Jon convinced the King to once again help the Knights in Black to defend the Wall and fight off the White Walkers.

He was to move ahead and explain, but he also wanted to find Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and Sam and his other friends.

He lifted his boot from the deep snow and wished he could be more like Ghost who padded silently along in front of him. The crunching noises his walk continued to make annoyed him. These noises prevented him from hearing very clearly.

He had been feeling uneasy for a day and a half now. It felt as if someone followed him, but each night before he slept beside Ghost, he looked yards and yards in each direction and found neither a person nor any sign of such. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling.

This night he'd chanced upon a rabbit and decided to take the risk of cooking it. He found the driest wood he could and lit a small flame beneath it. The flame was only big enough to skewer a small bit of the animal upon his knife to cook. He'd have some tonight and save the rest.

As he worked, he thought of Ygritte. Her red hair and pale face seemed the only thing that was beautiful in the world. He held out some hope that he would have the chance to be with her, in one way or another, before long. However, Ygritte did not seem as interested in him as he was in her. She may just be a wildling, but he could not get past the idea that she did not want him because he was a bastard.

Everyone he'd ever known frequently reminded him of his unworthiness. Sometimes, it seemed as if everyone was telling him that he had no right to even exist. He could not help feeling guilty for who he was.

What did he expect with Ygritte anyway? He had taken a vow and, in truth, that meant more to him than his lust for her. He still took those vows very seriously despite the King Beyond the Wall teaching him that the vows only imprisoned him. He supposed that he was too much like his father in the regard that honor meant more to him than most anything.

His brooding thoughts distracted him from the shadow that subtly blotted out the flickering firelight.

Ghost stood up and perked his ears forward. No growl escaped him, but he turned and nudged Jon into awareness. Jon glared hard into the darkness, trying with all his might to see what was out there.

A great black dire wolf stepped out of the shadows. The beast's yellow eyes seemed to pierce and stare deep into Jon's heart. It seemed as if the beast were measuring him up, questioning whether he were worthy of something.

Ghost squatted low and worked his way to the wolf before lifting his nose to tap the beast gently upon its lower jaw.

The black wolf wagged his tail in approval and turned his eyes back to Jon.

Jon cautiously approached and used his hand to do as Ghost did and tap the wolf on his lower jaw. Again, its tail wagged.

Abruptly, the wolf turned and trotted into the shadows a ways before giving a small yip like a call to follow.

"I cannot follow you, wolf," Jon said. The beast would likely adopt him into a pack, and that meant he would never find his friends nor return to the Wall. He must find them.

The black wolf yipped again and Ghost whimpered, pacing back and forth. Jon placed a soothing hand upon his wolf's side.

Then, once again the black wolf trotted into the light. This time, it kept throwing glances over its shoulder and yipping.

Jon thought that maybe the rest of the black wolf's pack was behind him somewhere and that that was whom the wolf was calling.

Then, from the shadows, there emerged a young woman, crawling cautiously forward. Her limbs and stomach were bare and only her private areas were covered with white rabbit's fur. Her hair was blacker than a raven's feathers and lacked the matted, stringy quality that Jon associated with wildlings. It curled and tumbled all the way down to her trim hips. When she looked up at Jon through thick, black, curling lashes he was alarmed to see ice blue eyes that seemed to blare out in shining contrast to her pale face.

It was the eyes that made Jon leap to his feet and pull out his sword. He had only seen eyes so blue in the face of a white walker.

The girl threw her hands up to shield herself from the threatening sword and the black wolf growled fiercely. Jon hesitated and the girl stood. "Are you real," Jon asked her. She cocked her head to the side the way a dog or wolf does when listening for a command. "Who are you," Jon asked, lowering his sword; she was clearly no white walker. The girl still did not answer, but she took a few steps closer to him. Then, before Jon had time to see what was happening, the girl ran right up to him and used her right hand to tap him under the chin. She then knelt before him and bowed her head, exposing her neck.

Jon was too shocked by her actions to do anything more than stare down at her for a moment. The girl let out a small whimper like an apology. "Do you know the common tongue? If you do then speak," Jon said. She peeked up at him when he spoke, and stood when he finished. She was far too close, Jon thought. He could smell the sweetness of her exposed skin.

"I know little the words," the girl spoke at last. She had a voice like music.

"Can you understand the words I'm saying?"

"Yes, understand much…say little."

"What's your name girl?"

The girl's chin came up just a little. "My name is a story; a long howl," she said.

"Well, I have the long night in which to hear your story. Come, you are freezing; you have no coat. Sit by my fire and I'll share my rabbit with you. Tell me your story," Jon said, taking a seat by the fireside and motioning for her to do the same. He couldn't understand why she wore so little clothing out here nor why she was travelling with a dire wolf at her side.

"The cold no touch my skin," the girl said, but she took a seat opposite Jon beside the fire anyway. Once she sat there, cross-legged and straight-backed, she began her story.

"In this land are many stories, many songs. Old stories sometimes die with old people. No one remembers old story of ice children. No more. I was born and old woman know story. Woman dead now. She tells me when she know I am alive. She tell me many things. I was born and my skin freeze-burn old woman. I no cry. My mother cry. She say I was dead baby, curse baby. Old woman try to tell her, 'No, ice baby alive.' My mother no hear her. When old woman leave, my mother take me out to trees and leave me. I cry then. Old woman hear me and run to trees. I was no more. She searched many moons she says. No find. Old woman says no white walker know how to kill ice baby. She say wolves take me. They did. Wolves were my mother and brothers and sisters. One hunt, I find old woman. She says to me, 'Ice baby, come, I tell you things.' She tells me in…wolf tongue." The girl put her hands in a triangle shape and placed them behind her head so that they resembled the ears of a wolf. She moved them in different ways to demonstrate the way the old woman had told her to follow.

"I go to old woman's tree-den. She teach me much common tongue. Teach me to say when I meet man. She tell me story of ice babies. Ice baby only born when dragon born. Ice babies guard the North. No fire burn here because of ice babies. There is ice in ice babies' skin. Old woman says ice babies put paw on dragon belly and dragon freeze. She say ice baby not understood and left to die in trees. She says the wolves take the strong ones. Old woman say to me, 'You are Dragon Bane.' She says I come to world to help make dragons go away. She say to follow crow. You are crow. You show me how to help."

Jon stared at her in absolute shock. What did this mean? He had always wondered why there were no tales of the dragons' destruction in the North, but he never imagined something like this. He was thinking fast and the girl seemed content to let him digest the information. Could a person, a human being, literally have the winter in their skin? He thought of the House Targaryen. Was it not rumored that dragon's blood flowed in their veins? Was it not rumored that that meant no fire could hurt them?

Jon thought that it only made sense for every thing to have a balance, an opposite. Each thing must have a weakness. If the rumors surrounding the House Targaryen were true, then why couldn't this girl's story be true as well? He looked once more at her exposed skin. It was beautiful, flawless, and unmarred by the cold. He could not help but believe her. She could be his answer, his way of finding his friends and even his way of helping his brother Robb without physically being there himself.

"Your name cannot be 'Dragon Bane' while you are with me. That is not a name in the common tongue. Did the woman call you by anything else?"

The girl shook her head.

"I will have to name you then, I suppose. There was a story that I once loved about a girl who had no place in the world except with the wolves. The people in the story called that girl Tala, the stalking wolf. This is the name I would choose to call you." He looked over at the girl and she switched her position to sit her knees upon the ground, and she bowed her head to him again.

"Why do you do that," Jon asked Tala.

She crawled around the fire until she was disturbingly close to him once again. He leaned away from her, still not accustomed to women being near him (and much less accustomed to women with so little an amount of clothing on being near him).

Tala reached her hand out once more and tapped his chin. Then she bowed again.

"This in wolf tongue mean you lead pack," she explained. "I smaller than you."

She certainly was smaller than him. When she stood he had noticed she couldn't have been more that 5'1 or 2. Everything about her was small and lean with muscle. Jon looked and looked at her until he could no longer deny himself; he had to touch her.

He reached out his hand, and she stilled. He ran his fingertips over her exposed collarbone and he saw her skin's paleness gain color wherever he touched. Quite suddenly, he found himself "excited" and, frightened by that, he drew his hand away. He supposed it was the lack of ever being with a woman that got him so excited over a perfect stranger.

He cleared his throat and slid a pace away from her. When he looked at her face, he saw that she seemed frightened too. No; "frightened" was not the right word for what he saw upon her face. It was more like nervousness, an anxiety.

They looked at one another for what seemed an age before Jon shook himself and asked, "What did your old woman mean when she said that the white walkers do not know how to kill you?"

Tala looked at him with those eerily blue eyes and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

"I seen white walkers many nights. They walk in woods for long nights. But they no see me," Tala said.

"What do you mean they don't see you," Jon questioned.

"On hunt, wolf teach me to roll in scent of prey to hide from them. I think I have scent of white walker on me. They no attack. They no look at me. Only one night this happen. The White King, he look at me. He know I am no white walker. He leap from dead horse. He run at me. I dance with him—"

"You danced with him," Jon interrupted incredulously.

Tala rose to her feet and demonstrated. She hopped from place to place as if avoiding the swinging of an invisible sword, and Jon suddenly understood. He laughed out loud, and Tala looked at him questioningly.

"You don't mean dancing (though, I suppose, it could be a kind of dance). You were dodging his sword."

Tala tested the word in her mouth. "Dod-ging. Dodging." Jon nodded to show her that the pronunciation was correct. Then she continued her tale.

"I dodging him. I not quick enough. His sword hit me here." She indicated a swipe across the flawless skin of her belly. "The sword…" She seemed to be looking for the right word. "The sword break in many pieces. The White King knew then."

Jon sat up a little straighter during this pause. "What did he know," he whispered.

"He know I am Dragon's Bane. The White King has seen many winters. 'What is dead can never die.' Old woman tell me island people say this. He remember other ice children. I see and smell fear on him then. He back away. Many white walkers are around me. My pack no help, for I on hunt alone. The White King grabs another white walker. He throw it to me. Tell it to fight. I ready to fight with claw. I no want to die that night. I leaped it. I put my paw to the throat, ready to rip out. White walker freeze in paw. It can no move. I slam its head on ice and it break to pieces, like sword. All white walkers back away. They no attack me now."

Jon let his breath out without realizing he'd been holding it in. If her story was true, and the girl had no motive for lying, then finding her truly was a change of fate. She truly could help him save his friends (who, rumor had it, were being laid siege to at The Wall by a horde of white walkers). She could change everything, everything. Jon looked back up at the girl. How small she was! Barely a slip of a girl. She was hardly someone Jon imagined to be a great and formidable enemy to things such as white walkers and dragons.

"Are you sure that's all that happened? Are you sure that this is the only reason the white walkers fear you," Jon asked.

Tala shrugged and said, "This, I no know. Old woman die before she tell me such thing. I find new power many times."

"What sort of power?"

"Many power I no control. Winter follow me. I think I no live in sun heat. Snow follow where I go to keep skin like ice."

Jon looked above and around him, realizing for the first time that it was indeed snowing. This only added to Tala's credibility in Jon's eyes. He still wondered at what other powers she may have, but she seemed to not understand her own powers enough to explain them properly to the likes of a bastard like him.

"Why don't we get some rest? We'll leave for the Wall at first light," Jon suggested.

"There no first light. Sun no more in north. Winter is coming. I wake you when go," replied Tala, already in the process of curling up against the side of her great black dire wolf who had sat regally by her side the entire time. Jon also curled up against Ghost. He did not doubt her statements.  
"'Winter is coming' are the words of my father's house, south of The Wall. We've always said they'd be true, but the 'would' always seemed further away. It's hard to accept winter as really being upon us," Jon mused aloud.

"Winter always comes. Earth need winter to change summer. Always balance," replied Tala.

"There is always a balance. I understand that." Jon hesitated for a moment, letting their conversation hang in the air before he changed the subject. "Does your wolf have a name," he asked.

"He no my wolf. He is brother. I call brother Dagen," Tala answered.

Jon looked over at the pair from across the fire. He could see her black hair blending into the fur of her 'brother' and couldn't help but wonder how much more there was to know about this mysterious woman.

She turned her head and was looking right into his eyes for a moment. He imagined rising from his place on the ground and walking over to her. He imagined how she would look beneath him that way. He imagined how she would look beneath him in a number of ways… the way her lips would taste, the way her skin would blush with his touch, the way her hair would feel in his fingers, and the way her skin would exude that sweet perfume he already associated with her.

Before he knew it, his imaginings turned to dreams in sleep.

After what seemed only a few moments however, Jon awoke to a cold nose pushing against his cheek. It was Ghost. Jon sat up and looked around.

The fire had long since burned out, and his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Tala and Dagen were both standing a few paces away, waiting patiently for Jon to join them.

He got to his feet quickly then. Trying to discreetly hide the "excitement" from his dreams. Though, he supposed that Tala might not know of the "excitement" of men, having been raised in the wild by dire wolves. This thought led him, embarrassingly, to wondering whether she had bled yet. How old was she?

"Tala," he said as he reached her. She only nodded and began to walk. He trotted a few paces to catch up and asked, "How old are you?"

For a moment he thought that she hadn't understood the question because she took so long to answer. Eventually, she did answer. "I no know this. Not very. Old woman say it be 16 year maybe when I freeze-burn her hands. Woman die week ago."

"So you are 16," Jon said.

"I no know."

It didn't matter though. Not really. She did already have the body of a woman at full bloom, and if she was 16 then that put her at the right age. Why he was thinking about these things he didn't know. He only thought how difficult it would be to grow up ignorant of such things.

Being a bastard, he had always known why he was considered as such. He knew what happened between men and women behind closed doors. Love was not the word he would use to describe what had created him.

They trekked along in the snow. Well, he trekked while Tala seemed to glide as silently and easily across the top of the snow as the wolves did. He envied her that and wondered if she could teach him to be the same way.

He always knew when he fell a little too far behind because the snow would stop falling and the sky would seem a little brighter. He would try to hurry then, but would always find that Tala had paused to wait for him.

This went on until Jon was past the point of exhaustion he thought he could endure, but he kept at it. Eventually, the next time he had caught up with Tala, she was sitting inside a quickly made shelter where a squirrel was cooking over a small fire.

He sat and said nothing, too worn out to muster the strength for even one word. Rather than gloat or tease, Tala came cautiously toward him. She was only a pace away when she sat as well. Jon could not stop watching her every move. He was nervous, and the air was thick with it. It seemed as if the whole day had just been a long wait until the moment he could touch her again, and because she moved steadily closer to him each moment, he thought she felt his need. Soon, their hips were side by side, touching. Jon was so still, that Tala worried her skin might have frozen him, but he still felt warm. In fact, the heat emanating from him was almost burning, so, without looking at him, she let her head fall gently upon his chest.

Jon was looking down at the top of her head in a sort of panic. He did not know what he should do. He knew what he wanted to do, and he even knew what he must do, but he did not know if he should do as he wanted or do as he must. Before he could decide, however, Tala lifted her arm ever so slightly and used her index finger to trace a line down from his chest to the top of his trousers. Up and down the finger went, and Jon could feel, even through his layers of clothing, it pulling the idea of what he must do out of his mind.

What he did next was done so quickly; no thought of self-control entered his mind. He grabbed her shoulders in his hands and used her to spin around in front of her. At the first, Tala seemed frightened by the sudden movement, but she let the fear leave her as Jon lowered her to the ground and straddled her.

He was tired no longer. He was hungry, very hungry. He may not know everything about her, but there was something there that elicited such a hunger inside him. He'd been able to deny such hunger with every other woman he'd met, but not her; not Tala.

This wasn't love. It was too soon to call it that, but Jon could not let her go to the other side of the shelter even if he wanted to. His only choice seemed to be to take her. He knew the risks. He knew that his friends and his honor should be his first priority, but it seemed that he could not trudge through that damned snow any longer without first satisfying this hunger.

He reached his hand out and began to loosen the ties of her top.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: This is just a warning that there is a descriptive lemon in this chapter. It's sex. It happens. More often than not, it happens in Game of Thrones. However, you may choose to skip it if you feel uncomfortable.

Just as the garment was falling from her breast, Tala used an arm to hold it there and used her other hand to stop his hand. "Wait," she whispered.

There was a fierce strength in the grip on his arm and, though he thought it would kill him, he paused his pursuit of her. His dark brown eyes searched her icy blue pair, waiting for her to explain why it was necessary he exude such a power of will as to deny himself the pleasure of having her.

"I no know how," Tala began. "I no know how to be with you. I am frightened. I no know you. We are strangers. How can I give you this? How can I be with you? I no know how. I am frightened you will no love."

"I have never known a woman, Tala. I do not know that I can know any better than you of how to perform this act. All I know is that I have wanted to know the touch of your skin against mine all day… From the moment I knew you were a real being, really. It was as if you had emerged from the depths of my repressed dreams to torment me with the idea of a life I would deny myself. I find that your reality is far too great a temptation for me." Jon leaned forward until he could smell the sweet scent of her breath and hear the pulse in her neck. "I will not take this from you lightly, Tala. I will be no rapist. I will look you in your eyes and hope that we can teach each other the ways of love. This way, in time, we can call what passes between us love. For now, we are merely each other's pupils. Let me learn from you. Let me teach you," he whispered before closing the gap between them and entrapping her lips completely in a kiss.

Her lips were like ice, but only in temperature. His ministrations seemed to melt her, and she gave way beneath him. She let go of his hand to run her fingers over the scruff lining his jaw. He used his hand to reach between them and pull first her arm, then the rabbit's fur away from her chest.

Breaking the passionate kiss, he sat up to get a better view of the breasts he'd been so eager to unveil. They were beautiful and beyond what he'd considered perfection. They were what he estimated to be a perfect handful; round mounds topped with delightfully hard, dusky pink nipples. He drank in the entire picture.

There was this beautiful, mysterious woman lying beneath him. Her raven-colored hair fanned out on the ground beneath her, and her arms were up atop some of her hair, framing her face perfectly. Her bow-shaped, full lips were already swollen—a mark of his claim on her.

He went in for another kiss when the thought occurred to him that he should not be taking her here on the cold hard ground. He didn't care that the cold didn't affect her; he didn't care that there was probably no rock that could pierce her skin. He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he was going to; he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible.

He quickly dismounted her and held up an index finger, telling her to wait.

She stayed exactly where she was and watched as he unfastened his cloak, draped it across her, and removed a smallish pack from his back. He reached into the pack and drew out a rolled fur mat. He unrolled the mat and laid it flat beside her. Jon then got to his knees and, looking into his lady's eyes, he leaned in and lifted her bridal-style from the dirt. He kissed her once before laying her gently across the soft, fur mat—the cloak still draped across her belly.

Jon stood once more. He kept stealing glances at her half naked form while she watched him undress. Soon, he had stripped right down to a pair of loose cotton shorts that was the only privacy now offered to his manhood.

He then resumed his position atop her hips and pulled his cloak up and around them like a blanket. He watched her breathing speed up as he came in for more kisses. He could sense how nervous she was, and he tried to reassure her with gentle, but firm kisses. As he led his lips down her neck and closer to her right breast, he heard her whisper, "Please." He did not know what such a word at such a time meant, but her body was responding to him, blushing in the most beautiful of ways, and he could no longer force himself to stop or even pause.

He could still sense her nervousness, and when he finally took a nipple into his mouth—between his teeth—the hands she brought up into his hair were shaking, but she arched into him and urged him for more.

A memory quickly passed through Jon's mind as he ravaged her breasts and listened to her shaky, quiet moans.

_"You must remember, Jon, that the breaking of a woman's virginity is painful for them. The gods wish to remind them, and us men, of what they are giving and we are taking," Lord Eddard Stark told a young Jon. "If it hurts, then why do they do it," Jon asked. "It only hurts the once, and they do it because it is their duty to submit themselves to a man that loves them," Lord Stark answered. "I don't think a lady should ever have to hurt in the course of duty," said Jon. "Love is much more than duty. This is why love should always be a condition upon which you take such a thing."_

Jon kissed the space in between her breasts and began to make his way further downward. Her hands fell to her sides and he saw her shaking in what must be fear of the coming pain. The old woman must have told her of such things. He supposed that someone who had never known pain would grow to truly fear the day they finally feel it. He would be as gentle as possible, but she would feel pain. Though he was sorry for that pain, he could not help but relish it as evidence that he alone had entered her. He was selfish enough in the moment to feel that.

When his lips had finally reached the hem of her fur covering, he spread her legs apart and kissed the insides of her thighs while he untied the leather ties holding the piece of clothing to her body. When that was loosed and barely covering her, Jon pulled the garment from underneath her and threw it aside.

As he looked down upon her sex, and she looked into his face, he thought of how ugly the used whore Rose had been compared to such untouched perfection. "You're beautiful," he breathed as he leaned over her again.

He used one hand to pet hair away from her face and the other to pull his shorts away. His rock hard, thick, long member sprang out and rested upon her lower belly as the shorts came away. There was a look of panic in her eyes as she felt the size against her and a few tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. After discarding his shorts, Jon rested on his forearms above her and used his thumbs to brush her tears away. "I am afraid," she whispered as more tears fell from her eyes.

"Shhhhhhh," he sounded before kissing her again.

As he kissed her, she continued to cry and he pulled her right leg over his shoulder for better access. He positioned himself at her entrance and she squirmed and whimpered. "Shhhhhhhh…" Jon said against her lips. He continued kissing and shushing her as he slowly entered her. As his tip made its way inside, Jon let out a gasp at the most wonderful feeling he'd ever known. His slow entrance stretched her wider and wider. When he was only part way in, he came to some resistance that he recognized by description as her virginity. He looked into her watery eyes and let more of his weight pin her beneath him before he finally shoved past her barrier and sheathed himself fully inside of her.

The poor girl cried out and thrashed under him and cried. He grabbed her face in his hands and swallowed her cries with a kiss. He pushed himself even further into her heat until he could move no more. There he waited, relishing in the feeling of his cock being so fully impaled inside such a beautiful woman, for her to relax and allow his movement. He kissed her until he felt the slight undulation of her hips against his and, as a result, the slightest of sliding motions of her inner walls against his large member. He took this as a sign to move and he pulled himself almost completely out of her before shoving himself in to the hilt once more.

He tore his lips away from hers and slid his hands over her breasts and down her muscled stomach as he sat upon his knees and thrust himself into her over and over again. His fingers wrapped around her hips and he watched as he pulled her into the rhythm of his rutting. The slap of flesh on flesh was soon drowned out by Tala's moans of pleasure.

These moans spurred Jon to make his movements within her harder and faster. He was soon pounding into her with such force that he could see bruises beginning to form on the insides of her thighs. He was so close to spilling himself within her, but some instinct told him to wait for her moans to reach a crescendo. This instinct told him that if he just held off until then, something better than his own pleasure awaited.

Soon, her moans did reach that crescendo and she was thrashing about in his arms. He let himself go then, and her inner walls clamped down upon his exploding member. She milked him for every drop of his seed, and when he was spent, he fell with a gasp atop her and had not the energy to even pull out of her.

Tala clutched his head to her breast and ran her fingers through his hair.

They were both asleep within minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

Tala slowly opened her eyes to a strange sensation between her legs. At the first, she was confused and panicked, but she soon remembered what had happened. She looked down to see Jon's head still resting upon her breast. His dark eyes were still shut in sleep, and Tala watched his eyelids twitch as he dreamt. She smiled at how long his black eyelashes were. She already loved him. He may not wish to call it that, but she felt it nonetheless.

The old woman always reminded her that she was to save herself. "You're meant for a lonely crow," she'd told Tala.

As she watched Jon sleep, running her fingers through his hair and feeling him grow harder within her, she prayed to the gods that he was the lonely crow she'd been made for. However, there was part of her that feared that he would not necessarily be made for her. She feared that he would not, eventually, return this love she offered him. She feared he could not love an orphan from north of the wall. She would never be any sort of fine lady. She knew it would probably embarrass him to stand next to her in any sort of Southerner society. She was too wild, too lowly for such things. She felt tears prickle her eyes and turn to snow flakes as they fell from her cheeks.

Jon stirred from his dreams.

He felt fingers in his hair, light as a snowfall, and they pulled every feeling but true comfort from his mind. He felt himself, hard as rock, within her tight sheath and smiled at how right it felt. He raised his head from her chest, intent on kissing the lips he'd been dreaming about and making love to Tala once more. He hesitated at the sight of the frosty trails of tears streaking down her face, but she smiled at him. As he leaned in for that kiss, Jon wondered if her tears were because she still hurt or the loss of her virginity or some other ail he could not understand.

He kissed her with passion, and they made love. It was slower this time, sweeter. They explored each other, tasted secret places, and learned from one another the art of love.

When they'd finished, they both stood and Jon melted some snow in a small pot over the fire. He dug out a washcloth and dipped it into the warm water. When he drew it out again, he beckoned Tala closer. He put the cloth to one of her pale thighs and began to draw the cloth over her skin and washed her. He had to dip the cloth into the warmth of the water frequently to keep her skin from freezing it solid. He told her, rather haltingly, that there wasn't a lovelier woman in the world than she.

She cried again at his words, and when he'd finished, she picked the cloth up herself and washed him, kissing each place she rubbed the cloth against.

When that was done, they both dressed. Jon put on his many layers, and Tala tied her furs back into place.

Jon walked to sit beside the fire and motioned for Tala to do the same. They sat side-by-side and stared into the fire. They noticed the fragile bones of the forgotten squirrel were turning to ash. Neither wanted to break this silence. They knew that they must eventually leave, that they had duties to fulfill. They knew this moment, this night would pass, and they would have to wake up to reality, but they did not feel ready just yet.

Jon took Tala's hand in his and brought it to his lips before letting their entwined fingers fall between them. She was looking at him, seemingly searching his face for something. He felt her gaze, but did not return it. He was deep in thought.

"What do you want from me," Jon asked her.

"Want from you? I no understand."

"What do you want me to do? Would you have me stay here in the woods beyond the wall with you and our wolves?" He finally looked up into her eyes, beseeching them to give an answer he could not find. "Would you have me abandon my duty and stay with you all my days in hiding? I do not think I have the strength to part from you. I do not want to send you away to my brother where I cannot protect you, I do not want you to fight this war. I want you with me. They'd never let me keep you at the Castle Black. I could build a place for you, just beyond the wall. Would you wish this?"

"Jon Stark, I—," Tala started.

"I am not a Stark I am a bastard of Lord Eddard Stark, a bastard of the North, and as such I am called Snow. How did you hear that name anyway?"

"I know who you are Jon _Stark_. I know you when I see you. Straight away. North of the Wall, there no bastards. There is only children. I know the Starks. Old woman teach me many things. She tell me Stark children claim dire wolf a friend. She tell me Starks are bound to duty, bound to honor. You no abandon this. You no abandon your family. I no need protect. I have skin thick as deep winter ice. Come. We go to Wall, we save friends, then we be together. Come."

Tala stood and offered her hand to Jon, helping him up. He didn't let her hand out of his as she led him out of the shelter and towards the place Dagen and Ghost waited for them.

They set off, this time together, and holding hands.

Up ahead was only a few more kilometers to the base of the Wall. As the couple drew closer there was the distinct sound of battles being waged.

Jon sped up, eager to rescue his brothers in black now that his head felt a little less hazy.

After another hour and a half, Jon and Tala entered what was usually the bare expanse of land between the forest and the walls. Now that expanse was filled to overflowing with the most fearsome sight Jon had ever beheld, and he squeezed Tala's hand a little tighter.


End file.
